


cash me out

by jinmyung



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6352474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinmyung/pseuds/jinmyung
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>glimpses of Jillian Holtzmann and Erin Gilbert's relationship, from their first meeting to their first kiss</p>
            </blockquote>





	cash me out

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to be linear in storytelling here but I’m not sure how that worked out. These are just glimpses into how I interpret the relationship of Jillian and Erin to develop, based on trailers, spoilers, and other things. Anyways, Ghostbusters (2016) and its characters are property of Sony, Dan Aykroyd, Paul Feig, Katie Dippold, etc. This is just my way of expelling the excitement that I have for this movie into something (semi) productive. Title is taken from the f(x) song of the same name. All mistakes are mine, you know the drill.
> 
> for Erin, my muse/headcanon-er extraordinaire/sometimes writing partner

Jillian Holtzmann doesn’t think she has ever instantly disliked anyone until she meets Erin Gilbert. Not that it’s entirely Erin’s fault, but it seems that Jillian is genetically predisposed to hate anyone who dresses like a tax collector. When she first meets Erin –  _ Doctor  _ Erin Gilbert, resident expert of particle physics at Columbia University – she is a collection of rigidity, anxiety, and an almost stereotypical personification of academia. Erin is dressed in a plaid suit that makes her look like a 1980’s Sherlock Holmes, and her hair is pinned up a fashion that makes her look like the girl who 1980’s Sherlock Holmes would probably have a crush on.

Erin has a history with Abby, though of what nature, Jillian isn’t entirely sure. Erin is standing beside Abby, who is seated on a stool, working on the prototype for a helmet of the unknown, but likely ghost-fighting variety. 

“Is that your, uh–your partner?” Erin mumbles, tilting her head in Jillian’s general direction. 

“Yes, actually.”

“She seems a bit…” Erin sighs, and she stiffly crosses her arms around herself. “ _ Eccentric _ .”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Jillian says, and doesn’t even glance up from the gadget she is currently tending to.

Erin glares, but Jillian is already busy working on her next project. That doesn’t last long, however, because Jillian’s phone buzzes and beeps across the room and she leaps from her seat, suddenly coming to life. She slides her goggles up and, after reading the message she has just received, nods faintly to Abby, a wicked grin etched across her lips. 

* * *

Jillian isn’t surprised when Erin follows them to the location of their first call. Abby is, though, and she and Erin whisper-argue the entire time that it takes for Jillian to pick the lock (which is not as long of a process as it is irritating). Jillian grunts quite loudly and within the minute, the door swings open with a loud, long groan. 

She picks up her titanium-covered duffle bag and slings it effortlessly over her shoulder, though its contents clink and bang, making Erin wonder  _ what _ exactly is inside. “Well, we’re in,” Jillian says, and extends her arm out into the house –  _ into the unknown _ , Erin thinks absently.

“How did you do that?” Erin asks, equal parts impressed and suspicious. 

Jillian shrugs, “It’s easy,” she says, and winks for good measure. Though the sun is beginning to set, she can see that Erin is blushing as she tucks away her pickset. Abby is the first to step in, and Erin quickly follows. Jillian takes a quick glance left and right to assure that they haven’t been spotted by nosy onlookers and slips into the mansion. It’s dark, which is to be expected, but there is something to be said about the unsettling  _ silence _ in the mansion. 

“So…” Erin whispers, “what’s the history of this place?”

“Mansion owned by some rich people in the 18th and 19th Century. Apparently George Washington–”

“The ghost of George Washington is here?” Erin nearly screams.

“Oh my god,  _ so _ impatient. Let me finish,” Jillian shakes her head, “apparently George Washington  _ slept _ here. Like, once, tops. But it’s not him we’re looking for – it’s the  _ wife  _ of the mansion’s previous owner.”

“She apparently spooked the living daylights out of the new tour guide,” Abby says giddily, “isn’t this exciting?”

Erin stops in her tracks, “But...if the new tour guide called you why did we have to break in?”

Jillian snorts, “No one called us. I have an app for these kinds of things. People post about ghost sightings and I get a notification every time there’s something in the city.”

“Are you telling me we’re here because of an  _ app _ ?!”

“No,” she gestures to herself and Abby, “ _ we’re _ here because of an app. I don’t know why  _ you’re _ here.”

For a reason that she can’t figure out, that comments cuts deeply, and it doesn’t leave Erin’s head for the next few days.

* * *

Jillian is forearm-deep in a can of Pringles when the apparition first appears. 

(“ _ Why _ do you have those?” Erin had asked her several minutes prior, to which Jillian replied, “Ghosts make me hungry,” with her mouth stuffed full). 

The apparition appears calm at first, but then again, they all do. It’s a young woman in a 19th Century dress, who floats menacingly by the entrance of the roped-off library. Erin begins speaking to her (it?) and it isn’t until then that Jillian  _ knows _ something bad is going to happen. 

And it does.

In what seems like a split second, the apparition’s face contorts from that of a young woman into a hollowed out skull-like creature. And of  _ course _ , it slimes Erin. The apparition screams like a banshee, and while its mouth is open, slime spews directly onto Erin as though she had just won a Kid’s Choice Award. Jillian almost laughs, but when she takes stock of the look of pure  _ horror _ across Erin’s face, she merely clears her throat. The apparition floats away, fading into the air and settling like mist. Erin extends her arm in Jillian’s general direction, clearly not ready, willing, or able to open her eyes and witness the extent of the sliming. The green substance drips seemingly every angle, splatting on the floor around Erin. 

Jillian huffs out a breath, and asks reluctantly, “...Erin, are you–”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t you dare  _ laugh _ .” 

“I wasn’t gonna laugh!” Jillian protests, but Abby grimaces.

“You kinda looked like you were gonna laugh,” Abby says, and tucks the video camera away in her bag, “one good thing, though: I got it all on camera.”

“Can we...can we just get this stuff off of me?” Erin pleads. She runs her hands across her eyes and clears the slime, shaking it off her hands when she can finally see again.

* * *

Jillian Holtzmann does  _ not _ like Erin Gilbert. So why is it that when Erin is stripping her clothes away  _ right in front _ of her, she has to force herself to look away in a pathetic attempt to look as busy as possible, even though she  _ definitely  _ isn’t? 

Erin shimmies out of her skirt, left only in her bra and underwear in the communal shower at what Jillian and Abby call “headquarters,” but is really just a space above a restaurant in Chinatown. The first layer of slime has been removed, but Erin wants to scrub her skin raw, and this is the fastest option; no way in  _ hell _ is she driving all the way back to Queens covered head-to-toe in slime. There’s a knock at the door, a sheepish one that Erin barely hears until she hears Jillian call her name. Erin cracks open the door, only to be greeted by Jillian’s outstretched arm, clutching a pile of clothing.

“I, uh–I found a few things you could wear until you get back home. And a towel,” Jillian says, trying her damnedest not to look: she’s opted for staring at the floor instead.

“Thanks,” Erin nods, and takes the pile from Jillian.

“I’m not sure if the slime will wash out of your clothes, but I'll put them in the machine anyways,” Jillian says, still staring at the floor, “And I’m testing the slime for any traces of radioactivity, just to be safe.”

Erin huffs. “Great. So not only did I get vomited on by a ghost, but I could potentially be a walking Chernobyl.”

“I highly doubt it, if it’s any consolation,” Jillian rolls her eyes, and makes the mistake of looking directly at Erin. “I...should get back to work. Enjoy your shower!” 

_ Why did I say that? _ Jillian shakes her head, and speed-walks back to the main room before Erin has a chance to reply.

* * *

“No way.”

“Erin–” Jillian starts.

“No, there’s just  _ no way _ I’m doing that.”

“We’ve dedicated our whole lives to studying the paranormal. Now look at what’s happening!” Abby gestures to Jilian, and she holds up her phone, showing a map of New York City with over a dozen locations pinpointed.

Abby says excitedly, “There are sightings all over the city! I mean, we could provide a real service for people: the first ever ghost exterminators.”

Erin crosses her arms, “So, what, we’re gonna lock pick our way into people’s houses when they don’t ask for us and just wreak havoc until we can catch a  _ ghost _ ?”

Jillian contemplates the idea before saying, “I mean...yeah, if the situation calls for it.”

* * *

Jillian understands thermodynamics, microfabrication, and among other things, the very basics of how to trap and analyze a class one apparition; Erin, however, is something that she just can’t figure out.

And that  _ bothers  _ her.

It bothers her so much that it begins to keep her up at night – she’s typically awake at all hours anyways, but that isn’t the point. It's distracting, thinking about all of the things that she doesn't understand about Erin. Jillian doesn’t understand why Erin smiles fleetingly at her while she is demonstrating a new invention, or why Erin gets very  _ very _ flushed when Jillian winks at her (something which Jillian can’t stop herself from doing), or why Erin stares at her when she thinks she’s not paying attention.

So when Jillian is tinkering with the second prototype to a new invention (something that the group has affectionately dubbed a “proton pack”), she’s not working so much as she is thinking about Erin.  _ Again _ . When Erin shows up seemingly out of nowhere, Jillian becomes so momentarily distracted that she singes her finger on the red-hot metal of the proton pack’s outside.

“Is that it? Is that the proton pack?”

Jillian nods, and brings the tip of her finger to her lips, “Yup. Part of it, at least.”

Erin’s brows furrow with worry, “Did you–Holtzmann, you burned yourself. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? I can help if you–”

Jillian holds up her hand, “Actually, I’m–I’m pretty exhausted. I’m gonna head to bed,” and she turns to leave, free of being  _ alone _ with Erin.

“You  _ sleep _ here?” Erin sputters out, and it sounds more like an incredulous accusation than an innocent inquisition.

Jillian hesitates and turns, blinking at Erin, “Of  _ course  _ I do. I like being close to the action, y’know?” She chuckles, “and it’s a hell of a lot cheaper than renting some closet in midtown.”

(Erin is there the next night with takeout from the restaurant below them, and she watches Jillian with an intensity that Jillian isn’t used to).

* * *

Abby slams her hands down on the table at headquarters. “Okay, guys, there’s a bigger picture at hand here. These ghosts can possess the human form.”

Patty is thrown off by this, and her jaw drops a noticeable amount, “You mean like The Exorcist?” 

“Something like that,” Erin nods, “from what we know, you can only be possessed if you’re in physical contact with the ghost. It can’t just possess you at will from a distance, but rather it will try to initiate contact and then control you.”

“So how do we stop that?” Patty asks.

“It takes a lot of energy to possess someone, even if you’re a powerful entity. If you can somehow force the apparition out, it may not have enough energy to re-enter your body or enter someone else’s. You’ll have a chance to catch if it’s weakened.”

“Force it out  _ how _ , exactly?” Jillian asks.

“Possibly a physical connection of some sort. Because the ghost needs that connection to possess, if a human is trying to initiate that connection, it won’t know where to go, and could be forced to exit the host.” 

“But you aren’t sure?” 

“Not entirely,” Erin shakes her head.

* * *

Erin vomits when she is possessed for the first time. 

_ A lot _ . 

Okay, so it’s not so much “vomiting” as it is “the projectile elimination of a ton of green slime”, but even while Erin is possessed, she can still tell that it’s disgusting. She draws the conclusion that this – the vomiting – must be her body’s subconscious way of trying to be rid of the unwanted possession, but it ends up being incredibly ineffective. When she’s possessed, it’s like someone has trapped her in a glass box: she’s kicking and screaming, and she can see and hear everything, but no one can see her.

It’s dusk when (possessed) Erin enters Ghostbusters headquarters. As she expects, it’s empty, save for the brilliant but equally menacing Jillian Holtzmann – someone who, to Rowan and his lackies, has been the human equivalent of a speedbump in their master plan. 

So she walks. Skulks, actually, because she’s doing her best not to be seen or heard, even though Jillian has her back turned and a drill in hand. Of course, as it goes, Jillian stops drilling when Erin is merely a foot away from her. She turns around and Erin is there, her hair mussed and her eyes particularly hollow, void of any of the typical Gilbert-esque inquisitiveness that Jillian has admired. Jillian is clearly startled, her eyes wide beneath the comically large yellow welder’s goggles. She leans back the slightest bit, glancing at Erin from head to toe not once, but twice.

“Erin. Hi. I thought you were with Patty and Abby.”

“They’re running some errands. I decided to stay behind,” Erin says simply. 

“Okay…” Jillian draws out, nodding, “Do you...need help with anything?”

“Actually, there is one thing,” Erin says, and tucks a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. 

That’s when Jillian sees it: slime. Green slime, dripping in a clean line from Erin’s ear. Jillian looks away quickly enough that Erin doesn’t notice, and instead carries on the conversation like nothing is wrong.

Jillian slides her goggles up to rest on her coiffed hair, “What is it?”

Erin stalks forward, cornering Jillian against the table. Her lower back hits the edge of the table and knocks tools to the ground while Erin places her hands on the edge of the table on either side of Jillian, effectively boxing her in.

Erin grins wolfishly, and it’s something Jillian has never seen before,  “I was wondering if you could show me just how good you are with your hands.”

“Wh– _ Erin _ , I–”

“What’s the matter, Jillian?”

_ You can only be possessed if you’re in physical contact with the ghost _ , Erin – the  _ real _ Erin had said – and Jillian knows that it’s the only way. 

(Okay, maybe not the  _ only _ way, but it’s all she can think of at the moment).

“Oh, screw it,” Jillian mumbles, and kisses Erin. 

It’s passionless, of course: only a desperate attempt to be rid of a menace, but Jillian can’t help but wish that she was kissing Erin for  _ real _ . By the time Erin presses her hands against Jillian’s chest and violently shoves her away, the ghost is expelled from her body, but the ghost only makes it across the room before it runs out of energy. They trap it with minimal effort, but the silence between them is deafening. 

Erin rubs her temples, “Holtzmann, was I–”

“Yup.”

“And you kis–”

“Oh, I sure did.”

“Okay...thanks.”

“Let’s do this again sometime. You know, without the ghost,” Jillian says, and she pats Erin’s shoulder before heading out the door.

* * *

The second time they kiss, it's after they save the world. Patty can't stop laughing, and after Abby finds her (broken) glasses, she high-fives everyone, and even though they're all covered head-to-toe in dirt and gravel and slime and even a little bit of blood, they are all  _ happy _ . For a moment, anyway.

“Where’s Holtzmann?”

Patty and Abby freeze.

“We…” Abby sighs, trailing off. “She was  _ right _ beside me.”

When Erin glances past Abby, she spots the pair of wayward legs hidden between two parked cars. The final crossing of the streams had apparently thrown Jillian quite farther than the rest, and she had nearly been tossed into the cars in the process. Erin runs to her, with Patty and Abby following quickly behind her. 

"No, no, no, no, no," she whispers to herself.

She kneels beside Jillian’s body and they begin shouting her name. Erin slaps Jillian’s cheeks, gently at first, but it gets increasingly desperate after many seconds with no response whatsoever.

“Holtzmann? Holtzmann, wake up...christ, Holtzmann,  _ please _ !” 

Just before Erin winds up her arm to slap her once more, Jillian wakes with a long wheeze and widened eyes. She actually coughs up dust, and her entire face is covered in dirt and streaks of blood.

“Jesus, Holtzmann, you had us scared to death! Are you alright?!” Abby asks from behind Erin. 

Jillian nods, and she smiles, and  _ god _ did Erin miss seeing those dimples, even if it was only for a few minutes. She leans up on her elbows, and Erin inches closer, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

Erin hugs her without even thinking, squeezing her arms around Jillian’s neck so hard that it nearly knocks her over. Jillian rests her arms around Erin’s back and nods to Patty and Abby. Sirens wail in the distance and a crowd begins to gather, marveling at the destruction of Times Square and its surrounding areas. Erin stands and helps Jillian stand, which takes a little more strength than she would have anticipated, but it's nothing that a little Advil won't be able to fix. They walk along the street as police cars and the fire department arrive, Jillian limping slightly as they go. 

"I gotta say, Holtzmann, you had me worried there for a minute."

Jillian snorts, "Oh, come  _on_ , you can't be serious."

Erin rests her hand on Jillian's hip as they continue walking, "No, no, I was. I care about you, Jillian."

Jillian gasps dramatically, "Oh, you care about me  _and_ you're using my first name? This must be serious."

(It _is_ serious, Jillian discovers, because Erin kisses her seconds later and it's just the way Jillian had imagined it to be).   



End file.
